


Event Horizon

by LA_Dmitri



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bromance to Romance, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, The Almighty Tallest Being Assholes (Invader Zim), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, and appropriately aged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 00:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20497802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LA_Dmitri/pseuds/LA_Dmitri
Summary: "In astrophysics, an event horizon is a boundary beyond which events cannot affect an observer on the opposite side of it."If a butterfly flaps its wings in space, does it cause an asteroid to plummet and destroy a planet thousands of light years away? Perhaps, but a single butterfly won't wreck nearly as much havoc as a human and a disgraced Irken Invader barreling through the stars, fueled by a relationship opposite of whatever buddy-cop films are.Welcome to Event Horizon, the comprehensive story of how Dib Membrane and Zim upended the alleged balance of the universe.





	Event Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the companion piece to KingCharon's "Encrypted" web comic. This is meant to function both as a standalone, and to give a greater depth to the events of the comic. 
> 
> We both worked on plotting the events, character development, and the end of the story. This is just my take on it as a life-long Dib supporter. 
> 
> Also, as a side note, the entirety of this work is really hardcore canon divergence. It's meant to be it's own story; with the events of ETF, the original Invader Zim, and the comics notwithstanding.

**Chapter One ✧ Part One****  
** **Dib, age 14**

The Summer Triangle was barely visible. 

A thick, gauzy haze hung over the City like a drape. The amount of visible particulate had also risen as of late, creating a chalky screen Dib really had to squint through to see anything. 

He’d been up here long enough that his lungs were starting to talk back, his throat was dry, and despite drinking a litre of water he was parched. His mind often fell into dark places like cancer and tumors when he caught himself thinking too hard about the so-called air he was breathing. Dib made a note to watch for future changes, both in quality of air and quality of life. 

Lost in thought and staring deeply at the night sky, Dib didn’t notice a small hand throwing open the window just below his perch. 

Gaz stuck her head out the window and squinted. She looked at her brother the same way most people look at a wounded bird or an old dog with sad, wise eyes. That is to say for most people, there would be a strong inclination for pity or perhaps love. For Gaz however, it was just an ever present, grating annoyance. 

“Dib! Dad says it’s time for dinner so you gotta get your stupid ass off the roof!” 

Gaz had learned to swear recently, and it caused Dib’s dentist to rub his hands together in sordid delight. His teeth were sturdy enough, but definitely not built to withstand bearing the weight of Gaz’s propensity for, well, being herself. Unlike himself, his little sister had been hit with puberty like a raindrop, and yet still seemed to have these sudden spikes in distemperment that indicated to Dib she might be a tidal wave of hormones come to sweep him out to a sea of agitation. It bothered him that their dad just let her do and say as she pleased, but then again, he was afforded that privilege too and didn’t want to risk staging a self-dooming coup. 

Rolling his shoulder, Dib pulls away from the telescope he’d been glued to for the last hour. He pops his aching back, takes note that his coat doesn’t fit as well as it used to, and turns to shout back, “I’ll be there in a minute!” 

Gaz doesn’t hear the “little shit” tacked onto the end of the statement as Dib packed up and headed inside. 

Dinner was cold and mushy, but it curbed the empty ache in his stomach. Gaz hardly looked at him, instead opting to sneak a handheld game she’d been engrossed in for the last 48 hours under the table. It was quiet, save for his dad’s rambling about a molecular engine he seemed to think Dib would be interested in. 

“And how about  _ that  _ for  _ real science _ , son?” 

Dib was a little too busy chasing a lone pea around the edge of his plate to have been listening. “Huh? Oh yeah, dad. Sounds great.” 

“Son, when are you going to want to learn  _ real science _ ?” 

The extra emphasis on real sent a chill up Dib’s spine. Two years after Zim had showed up and been continually thwarted meant nothing to anyone but him. Sure, two years changes a lot of things, but his dad had met the little green annoyance and still thought that science was all numbers, analog data, and tactile processes. Things you couldn’t see simply didn’t exist within his dad’s scientific purview. Even when he’d taken Bigfoot’s prints off of the belt sander and shown them to his dad, he was still dismissed as having “stolen the fingerprints of a very hairy man.” Which, Membrane reminded him, regardless of a person’s amount of hair there was no such thing as Bigfoot and fingerprint theft was a punishable crime. 

It was a battle he was never going to win, and so Dib continued to bully the pea. 

“Dad, I don’t know if I’m cut out for all the “real science” stuff. I mean, it doesn’t really interest me, you know? I want to prove something, anything, to someone at least once before I settle down on genetic analysis or something. How will I be able to sleep at night if I don’t expose Zim for the ali-”

“ _ Be  _ quiet, Dib.” Gaz seethes, piercing him with a wide eyed glare. “You voice is like a thousand tiny needles stabbing my ears.” 

Dib looks at his father. “Dad, can I be excused?”

“Of course you can’t, son. This is  _ family  _ time, and we all need to be here as a family.”

Dib looks at Gaz, and then back to his dad with a shadow of smugness draped over his face. “Well, Gaz is playing video games under the table. That’s not very pro-family time of her.” 

Membrane gasps, then holds out a gloved hand towards the youngest of his children. “Gaz, honey, you know that video games aren’t allowed at the table unless it’s your brother's birthday or a holiday! Hand it over.”

The kitchen instantly ices over as the quiet and methodical ‘blip blip’ beneath the table abruptly stops. Gaz raises her head, calculated and slow. Her eye is twitching and her teeth are grit in a way that sets her jaw like a predator. She hands the console over to Membrane without looking at him, reserving her frosty stare for Dib. Her eyes are wide and reflecting the maelstrom boiling deep inside of her tiny body. At Dib, she mouths, ‘you’re going to die.’ 

Dib relishes the two seconds of victory he had and nervously squashes the pea. 

After dinner, Dib had made quite the effort to hide from his sister, but she had a knack for finding him. 

A series of graceless squabbles led to a bruised elbow, a black eye, and two particularly sore ribs for Dib. As the moon crept into the sky, Dib lay in his dark room crying silently. 

Exhaustion gripped him so tightly that he couldn’t seem to sleep. Unable to find comfort in his bed, Dib sat up and found himself peering tiredly out of his open window. The City was busy with its characteristic hum-drum; people screaming, horns of various tones and volume, someone vomiting loudly in the distance. You know, normal city lights and sounds. 

It didn’t comfort Dib so much as give his weary mind something else to focus on. His eye throbbed and his ribs ached when he drew breath, but his dad had told both kids that he didn’t want to see either of them for the rest of the night. They’d caused too much ruckus, and instead of just focusing on the person who had  _ started  _ all of it, both he and Gaz were suffering because Dib had yelled for help while Membrane was “focusing.” 

It was an ever-lasting battle Dib could never seem to get the jump on. Gaz was always a step ahead, and Membrane seemed to favour the younger. He defended her behavior so much, it prompted Dib to wonder if his dad was somehow hoping that Gaz’s bullying would “set him straight.”

Or something to that effect. 

Dib shuddered to think of what would happen if his dad also found out about his blossoming taste in romantic partners. 

_ It’d be another card built on an already unstable house,  _ he thought morosely. 

Dib folded his arms on the window sill and stared out into the night with wet eyes. His tired brain played a series of memories he didn’t particularly care for. Kids at Skool, Gaz, his dad…

All of them looking down on what he knew to be genius. This damn planet wasn’t going to defend itself, and Dib’s best efforts were always dismissed as mental illness, insanity, even hormones of all things. 

The sadness weaving through his body evolved into frustration. Tears began to come harder, leaving Dib in a feedback loop of upended emotions. 

He just wanted someone to believe him. He just wanted someone to  _ care _ . 

Dib didn’t remember falling asleep, but the window sill cradled him with still damp cheeks. 

  
  


Across town, seated in the depths of his base below the earth, Zim monitored the spy camera he’d planted in Dib’s room a few nights ago. It was ingenious, he thought, to spy on his greatest enemy in his own base. What new information he would be able to gather while Dib had his guard down was perhaps exaggerated by his imagination, but Zim still felt as though it would be invaluable to his Mission. 

Though, as he watched the monitor, even to what little sensibilities he possessed, something about seeing Dib in that state just felt wrong. He  _ did  _ seem to be suffering, but it wasn’t at Zim’s hands. It was also a new kind of suffering he’d never really seen before. So new, in fact, that he demanded his computer to extract any and all information on the eye-water that seemed to have harmlessly wet the human’s cheeks. 

Of all the things that Zim expected, “early on-set adolescent depression” was not one of them. This information sent Zim down the rabbit hole of the human psyche. He plunged into the very depths of what this so-called “depression” meant for Dib, and concluded something very frustrating. 

“The Dib-worm’s small and inferior human mind is doing the destroying  _ for him _ ?”

Somehow, the computer produced a sigh that displayed its annoyance with Zim better than most people could manage. “That’s not at all what I said.” 

“I will not be defeated by the human’s own body! Inferior human organs, thinking they can annihilate Zim’s enemies before him?! This will be my greatest triumph! Undoing my enemies’s undoing before he can be undone!”

Zim took this moment to celebrate his ingenious evil with a cackle, conveniently ignoring the rattle of his bases’ computer hub sighing once again. 

Zim stopped laughing long enough to remember he didn’t know what he was doing at  _ all. _ This was a new challenge, but he was an Invader. Practicality and adaptation were his strong suits, his ingrained and unmatched Irken abilities, that would not be put to shame by something like depression. 

“Still,” Zim rambled at his computer, which ached for the sweet release that followed pulling its own plug. “That is an enemy I cannot see! Irken Invaders have defeated such invisible enemies before, and this is no different! I shall find the answer to this puzzle!”

There was a pause. A short pause. “COMPUTER!”

“Whaaaaaat.”

“Give me solutions for this,” he made air quotes, “de-presssion.” 

Zim was almost drooling by the time his computer had read a laundry list of biomedical interventions and dialectical therapies, half of which his Irken tongue had no hope of pronouncing. 

“I don’t care who these Emsam and Pamelor people are. I will  _ not  _ stoop to the huuumans for help. Not now and not ever!” Zim was blissfully unaware how big a favour the profound lack of a profanity module programmed into the computer was doing him. “I must think of a better way to ensure the Dib-worm will be destroyed by ZIM!”

“You could just, I don’t know, care about him. Or pretend to.” 

“SILENCE. My evil and amazing brain is concocting a plan. An amazing and inspired plan that the likes of you could never think of!” 

Zim makes a series of “hms” and “hums” that sounded like a bee, if that bee were pitched up and also incredibly annoying. The computer whirrs expectantly. 

“I’VE GOT IT!” Zim announces, as though a crowd of devoted followers were attending him. (Side note: been there, done that, will never do it again.) “Yes, I have a plan. A plan that will make me, Zim, an enemy to this de-pression. I will give the Earth-boy false hope! I will pretend I, ugh,  _ caaare  _ about him. And when he feels cared for, and I have made a fool of the de-pression, I will destroy the filthy human!” 

  
  


**Chapter One ✧ Part Two****  
** **Dib, age 15**

Autumn was Dib’s favourite season for multiple reasons. 

First and foremost, the weather took a sharp turn into what he aptly described as ‘brisk.’ Shorter days with heavier cloud coverage made for distinctly cooler temperatures; of which Dib fondly thought of as perfect bigfooting weather. The beast would be out in search of food before the coming winter, and maybe he’d need to refinish another cabin chair in the garage. It’s too bad the Swollen Eyeballs didn’t take “belt sander bait” as seriously as he’d hoped. 

The second reason Dib loved autumn was that he could wear his coat without Gaz, or his alleged peers, or even his dad constantly belittling his fashion choices. He’d recently let out the sleeves and shoulders to accommodate his ever changing height, and figured cooler weather was the best time to get the most out of the newly comfortable fit. 

And lastly, Dib loved Autumn most because the skies that hung low over the City were the clearest they’d be all year. Cloud coverage generally dissipated by midnight or so, leaving a canvas of glittering mysteries and enchanting supernovas in its wake. Sometimes, if it was particularly clear and cold, Dib could lay on his back and watch falling stars race each other through the ebony void. This brought him a sense of calm, followed by a wracking mirth, that put his mind at ease. At least for a little while. 

When it was this clear and this cold, few people lingered around the busy metropolitan area. The City fell quiet for once. The world seemed, in this moment, docile. 

Dib could let his guard down. On the roof, just him and some snacks Gaz would probably be pissed at him for eating later, Dib found thorough company in space. 

And, as the moon crept into the sky, something that came from space crept towards him. 

Zim had swung onto Dib’s roof with his retractable legs, and landed beside the human in a manner that brought to mind the image of a spider tap dancing. 

Dib started to tense, but when he noticed the small, green form beside him he snorted. 

“Whaddya want, Zim? I’m trying to enjoy my evening.” 

“Human!” Zim spat as though he were somehow on a long game, one where he was the only player. “You need company!”

Dib cocked an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about what I need? I thought we agreed that since your leaders aren’t coming, we’d leave each other alone?” 

“SILENCE! The Tallest  _ are  _ coming! They are just, uhh, delayed! And since they won’t be here yet, I have devised a new plan to focus on destroying you before the rest of the disgusting, smelly humans.” 

A deeply tired breath passed through Dib’s lungs. “Disgusting and smelly are basically the same thing but whatever. Anyway, Zim? Go away.” 

Zim balled his hands up until his gloves squeaked. “I will not go away, Dib stink!”

“Jesus, Zim, what is with you and things stinking, or smelling, or whatever?”

“Your planet of filth reeks! It bothers my incredible sense of smell.”

Quiet fell over the roof while the two simply looked at one another. Dib idled over how Zim could possibly smell without a nose, but then again, he’d seen Zim without his stupid disguise. Maybe he was a space cockroach and smelled with those twiggy antennae. The thought grossed him out, but only slightly. 

After another moment of uninterrupted staring, Dib stated, “you never answered my question, you know.” 

“Zim needs to answer no human’s silly questions! But, um, what was the question again?”

“I asked why you cared about what I need. Isn’t that, like, the opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing? Caring about your enemy doesn’t really help you defeat them any better.” 

“Well, if you  _ must  _ know, Dib,” Zim spoke with such confidence that it really was too bad any attempts at being suave or charming were overshadowed by his patent brand of stupidity. “I have discovered a weakness within your feeble human brain that will stand in my way of personally eliminating you, and I will not suffer you destroying yourself before I can!” 

Dib blinked. “What?”

“Your tiny mind has decided to destroy you! Perhaps in an effort to get ahead of Zim, yes? It would be a good plan, Dib, but your pitiful organs will not make a fool of this Irken Invader!” 

The night seemed to shift around them. A small chuckle sprouted deep within Dib’s chest, only to take flight and spread its influence through his whole person. He nearly doubled over under the burden of his laughter. 

Zim grit his teeth. “What is so funny?!” 

“Zim, dude,” Dib managed between little spurts of bubbling laughter. “Are you saying you’re trying to usurp my  _ depression _ ?” 

“YES.” 

The laughter stopped, and Dib’s face washed with a confused shadow of emotion. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No it’s not.” 

“Yes,” Dib said. “It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I’m not arguing with you.” 

“So Zim wins!” 

“No, Zim. Look,” Dib was shallowly situating himself now, smoothing out lines in his coat that weren’t there. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, or what you’re trying to achieve here. But at the end of the day, you and I are enemies-” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t interrupt me. And as enemies we don’t care about each other. You could disappear tomorrow and I would just go on living my life. The fact that you know I have depression now is actually kind of hilarious. You’re late to the party on that one too, Zim. Everyone knows I’m depressed. It makes me no fun or whatever, but at the end of the day, people not caring is just normal. So stop pretending, okay? Just be annoying and heartless.” 

Dib was already climbing off of the roof and wriggling his way in through the kitchen window by the time Zim had collected himself enough to speak. He hung off of the gutter’s edge, staring at Dib. “But, you would obsess over me if I disappeared! It is why you are my enemy, Dib!” 

“Yeah, Zim. Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” Dib slipped into the window, leaving Zim by himself. 

Zim continued to stare after Dib. He frowned so deeply that it pulled his eyes down into a slightly crooked expression. 

Meanwhile, Dib had already slipped into bed. He pulled the sheets up over his head and settled into the cold fabric with a tired air about him. He tried to put away the strange feeling his conversation with Zim had left in his chest. That had to mean nothing. 

Right? 

  
  


**Chapter One ✧ Part Three****  
** **Dib, age 16**

Zim hated Dib. 

Hated him so much, in fact, that he’d spent nearly all night awake watching him. He was waiting and watching with patience matched only by the hulking guards from Moo-Ping 10. The ones he’d heard about who sang little ditties to themselves and ignored the screams of pain and anguish from the prisoners. Zim had always wished to be awarded with Most Patient Invader, on top of already being Irk’s Best and Most Accomplished Invader. 

Still, all of his waiting was for a good cause. He was going to ambush the human on his roof. Right when he least expected it. 

Or, that’s what he was  _ going _ to do. Until the Dib had somehow spotted him, thus throwing him off his rhythm. 

“Zim, why are you just staring at me?” 

Dib’s voice sounded like it had fallen into a deep well. It had been falling for a few of Earth’s cycles, but Zim assumed it had taken the final dive when he spoke. “Uh, why are you staring at  _ me _ ?”

“I’m...not?” Dib smoothed down his pointy hair. Zim quietly wondered how his fleshy hand did not recoil in agony.

Climbing smoothly and elegantly onto the roof, Zim confronted the large headed smell-boy. “Your human eyes? Staring at Zim?”

“No, Zim. Lay off. God, why do you always bother me when I’m least in the mood for it?” 

The human’s output was unpleasantly bitter, even to an Irken. Zim frowned. Dib seemed smaller, sitting on the roof with his knees drawn into his chest, and his arms swallowing his legs in a suffocating hold. It looked uncomfortable. 

“I think this is where Zim asks if the human is o-kay?” 

Dib pulled himself in, returning space to the roof. “Why do you care?” 

“Because!” Zim said, buzzing with the feelings bee known as aggravation. “How can you be my greatest enemy when you’re all sad and mopey like? It ruins the fun of destroying you!” 

“You said it yourself, Zim. My stupid mind is trying to destroy me. And it’s doing a hell of a job.” Dib’s eyes were wet with excess negative emotion. “Besides, what’s the point of even trying anymore? No one believes me, and no one seems to care about how vulnerable they really are. Why should I stop you from destroying the Earth? It kind of seems like you’d be doing the world a favor.” 

Zim blinked. The words that leaked from Dib’s mouth were jarring, even to him. 

“But...but you can’t just  _ give up _ , Dib-worm!” 

Dib shrugged. “Too late for that I guess.” 

Zim puffed his very large and impressive chest out, like the native winged creatures that still puzzled and fascinated him. “Just you wait, human! You’ll see. When Zim returns, you shall feel the might of Irken intelligence! Your feeble de-pression will never see it coming!” 

Zim held eye contact with Dib as he descended the roof. 

_ Oh, that human will see _ …

  
  


**Chapter One ✧ Part Four****  
** **Dib, age 17**

Dib did wait. 

And nothing happened. Zim disappeared into his base with no signs of returning. 

Dib assumed he died. 

  
  


**Chapter One ✧ Part Five****  
** **Dib, age 18**

**“The Beginning”**

After Dib had graduated from Skool, he found himself outfitted in a white coat complete with“D. Membrane” on the name label, and a large stylized M decal sewn into the back. His beloved black jacket found an uneasy rest in his closet, collecting dust alongside his briefcase, various alien tools he’d confiscated from Zim in his youth, and a box of BELIEVE posters that brought him a sense of shame. 

“Real science” had won out. And Dib was miserable. 

He was bored, uninspired, and aching for something to stir in the base he still monitored from time to time. Sure, it was a pleasant and welcome change to hear his dad verbalize genuine pride in Dib pursuing “real science”, but at what cost? At what point did Dib think that succumbing to this life of mundane science was better? 

He couldn’t really remember. And he didn’t try too terribly hard. It saddened him greatly. 

A few years back, Zim had said that Dib would obsess over his disappearance if that ever came to pass. And while in his youth he might have, Dib just didn’t have the capacity to “obsess” now. These days, he helped his dad splice genes, design tech that ran apps for MacMeaties, and grow horrible, screaming monstrosities with soulful eyes and a few too many teeth. Between that, and seeing a disaffected therapist twice a week, Dib couldn’t really pencil in childhood infatuation. 

And that’s what it was. Just a little bit of misguided pash while he struggled through the arenas of adolescent sexuality and mental health. 

Or so Dib told himself. 

Both his dad and therapist (who conveniently worked for Membrane Labs) diagnosed him with a form of neurosis, brought on by a lack of attention during critical developmental years. Dib let this roll off of his back, considering he still had proof decaying in his closet, and moved out of his childhood home. 

His flat was small, and not well furnished or lit, but it did the job. It was a place to eat, sleep, and watch his monitors in private. 

Before he’d moved out, if Membrane ever caught him passing glances at the pixelated images of Zim’s house, he’d go on a tirade about giving up on silly ties to the past. Membrane would make pass after pass at Dib about how he was a “real scientist” now, and there’s no room for unfounded paranormal speculation in the field. He’d even gone so far as to disconnect Dib’s monitors, using the “my house, my rules” excuse. 

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Dib. He withdrew the entirety of his weekly earnings, shoved the wad of cash at a greasy landlord, and moved out the next day.

_ Sure _ , Dib thought as he scrubbed a thick layer of oxidized grime from his shower the day after moving in.  _ Dad’s real science or whatever isn’t fit for paranormal work, but that doesn’t mean it has no merit.  _

It was a fine line to walk, but Dib might as well have taken up tightwire running at this point. He’d been balancing methodologies of science and paranormal research since he was barely into his first decade. And now, Dib thought, he’d have to do it again. 

Especially after coming home from a long day at the lab, only to be greeted by a grinning alien splayed sloppily across his couch. 

“Heeellooo, Dib!” 

It’d been two years. 

“ _ Zim _ ?!”


End file.
